


Third Degree

by CrazedPanda



Series: They Made Me Do It: short stories inspired by random convos with my spanking sisters [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Corporal Punishment, Discipline, Gen, OTK, Severe, Spanking, bare-bottom, belt, implements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 09:51:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15683007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazedPanda/pseuds/CrazedPanda
Summary: Mistakes were made. Some mistakes come with epic consequences.(I think it was Tosca who first said she really wanted to see the three-Winchester spanking threatened in Tale of Two Spankings, but I can't give her all blame, I wanted to see it, too.)As always, my dear betas Edge_of_Clairvoyance and ToscaRosetti have been of inestimable assistance in the creation and editing of this fic.Oh, also Edge came up with the title, (I'm generally terrible at them) and she nailed it!





	Third Degree

**Author's Note:**

> Because of a couple things that happen in this fic, I just want to make it clear that the oc is in this relationship with the Winchesters of her own free will. She has agreed to submit to John's discipline as the patriarch of the family and she is always free to voice her feelings if anything ever scares her or makes her uncomfortable. And if she ever felt John was completely out of line, the option to leave would also be available to her. 
> 
> I've included a note at the end, in case any of my readers are triggered by forms of domestic abuse, listing the main disciplinary actions that occur in this fic so you can make a discerning choice on whether or not it's for you <3
> 
> Also, yes, I'm prolly going to write the sequel to this sometime. I want to work on the next chapter to Home (IWIWY), but I don't feel like we're done with this oc.

Man, questioning this dude at the morgue had turned out to be more difficult than I had bargained for. He had an attitude for one, and besides, although I have a pretty strong stomach - something that has only become more true since falling in with the Winchesters - the odors in that place weren't what I wanted to be smelling on my clothes the rest of the day.

On top of that, some of the answers he'd given me didn't seem to line up with my current theory on the case. I might need to go over my notes again back at the motel, see if I was missing anything. I opened the heavy door, blinking against the sunlight, and what I saw made me instinctively wish for a place to hide, but there wasn't any, they'd already seen me. 

“The hell?!” I heard Dean mutter under his breath. They were all three in their “monkey suits." In other words, they somehow looked more drop dead and intimidating than usual. Also a good indication that they were here looking for answers from a certain bitchy slicer of dead bodies that I'd recently encountered. 

They seemed just as surprised to see me as I was to be running in to them. They recovered faster, though. John had his hand around my elbow, growling into my ear, “You want to explain what you're doing here?”

Sam butted in, “Or how you got here in the first place, or how you knew to . . . Wait, how long have you been going behind our backs, exactly?”

All I could do was open and close my mouth like a caught fish. Which is, coincidentally, an accurate description of how I felt at that moment. 

John clearly took my inability to explain myself as an admission of guilt - correctly, I guess - and his face went stony and cold. “One of you take her to the car, I can't even look at her right now.” He let go of my elbow and I stumbled back toward Sam and Dean. “Don't let her out of your sight, I'll be right there and we can take this discussion back to the motel.” He didn't spare me another glance, but stalked into the building. 

John's dismissal and the threat of a “discussion” was enough to bring tears to my eyes. I tried to hold out some hope; maybe at least one of the boys would be on my side. 

Sam was the closest and I looked up at him, hoping for the chance to explain. His steely expression did not bode well and he cut me off before I had a chance to say anything. “I don't want to hear a single word outta you till we reach the motel.” 

Dean broke in, “And I suggest you save your tears, you're going to need em later.” My nervousness grew stronger at the implication in his words. 

Dean glanced sideways at his brother. “I've got her.” He came forward and grabbed my elbow and led me toward the impala. He walked just fast enough that I had to do an awkward walk-skip to keep up. He helped me into the car and noticed I was crying more freely now. 

“Hey! Now is not the time for a pity party, little girl. You broke _our_ trust, not the other way around.”

“He, he said he couldn't look at me,” I blubbered.

“Yeah, you're right, he's pissed, and he's trying to get it under control before he deals with you. You should be thanking him. Hands off, I'll buckle you. I can't trust you to do as you're told, apparently.”

“You can! I'm sorry, Dean!”

“No, you're not; not yet. Sam was right, you don't need to talk. And you'd better not move from that seat unless you want the butt blistering to start right in the middle of this parking lot. You hear me?”

“Okay, Dean.”

“Uh-uh, I don't think so. I'm not your buddy right now.”

“Yes, sir.” My voice was subdued. Dean wasn't being mean, his words weren't meant to hurt, he was trying to get through to me. And he was starting to. 

“One more thing. You are in _trouble_. We're mad as hell. That don't mean we don't love you. I feel like you should know that by now, but just in case: we're not just gonna cut you loose or stop caring for you because you screwed up. So don't even go down that road. You can't pull something like this and then act like we can't be upset cause it'll hurt your feelings. We've got every right to be pissed at you right now. Understand me?”

“Yes, sir.”

He shut me in the car. It wasn't long before John returned and after some deliberating between the three of them - I tried, but couldn't catch what they were saying - John got in the driver's seat, Sam took shotgun, and Dean went around to sit next to me in the back. 

The silence was nearly unbearable, eclipsed only by the fact that I was currently going through the list of my transgressions in anticipation of them demanding the truth out of me once we reached the motel - it was not pretty. My anxiety was climbing with each detail I was remembering. 

When we pulled into the parking space closest to our room, John was out first, Sam followed, neither of them so much as glancing back. Dean got out and circled the car while I unbuckled and started to get out on my side. 

Dean was there before I set foot to pavement, his hand gripping my elbow. “What did I say?”

“Uh . . ?”

He helped me out and landed three sharp swats on my bottom. Damn, that stung. Dean didn't spank me very often, it usually fell to John, but he was apparently just as skilled as his father at reducing me to feeling like a naughty child.

“I told you not to move from that seat. I didn't give you permission to get out, and you didn't ask. I suggest you start listening, Y/N, right now.”

“Yes, sir.”

He gave me another swat. “Get inside.”

It would have been impossible to disobey with the hold he had on me as he resumed the brisk pace he'd set before, but I squeaked a “Yes, sir,” anyway and concentrated on keeping my feet moving so he wouldn't think I was fighting him or attempting to delay my reckoning. 

When we reached the room, I noticed John and Sam were both standing on either side of the small living area, facing the couch. John nodded toward it and Dean deposited me on the nearest cushion on the end, perching on the arm. 

“Alright.” John sounded calmer, but still not to be messed with. “Start talking.”

“Um, you were working on your case; I got bored - you had me waiting in the motel room for days - so I was just doing some research on a different case.”

Sam interjected, “So the other night when I felt sorry for you and brought you back a milkshake, and spent the evening watching Pride and Prejudice and Zombies with you, and last night when Dean played Mastermind with you for hours, you hadn't been cooped up in the motel room all day at all, and you just let us feel bad and try to make it up to you anyway?” 

My face must have been incriminating enough; he didn't wait for a reply. “Do you remember why we were having you sit out of any field work for this case?”

I tried recalling the details of their explanation, “You said what we were after was too dangerous. That's why we got a motel in a neighboring town instead of closer to the action, and you told me I could help with research, but you didn't want me in the field.”

“Uh huh, and did it ever occur to you that these cases could be connected?”

A sliver of further dread settled in my stomach. “Um, noooo.” 

Dean butted in, “Did it ever occur to you to ask us before leaving the motel room; seeing as how you knew we wanted you staying put for your safety?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise.”

Dean stood without a word, hauled me up by my arm and delivered five no nonsense swats. They hurt, even over my slacks, but mostly they just made me embarrassed at my juvenile attempt to justify my stupid decisions. “You wanna try that again, but the truth this time?”

I took a deep breath, not sure if the real reasons were more or less embarrassing, but I had no choice at this point. “I felt like you were benching me because you didn't think I could handle it, and I thought this way I could show you I could. It didn't seem dangerous at all, I was being careful, I just wanted to do all the legwork and then hand the evidence over to you to prove I wasn't just a stupid civvie you guys had to shelter.”

Dean sat me back on the couch, his face unreadable. “Funny, ‘a stupid civvie’ is exactly what I was thinking your behavior was reminding me of. Your plan to prove you can be trusted in the field, and to convince us you didn't need to be kept away from the action for your own protection, was to lie to us, to sneak, to try to work the case on your own, to interfere with our involvement in the investigation, and the whole time to put yourself in danger directly against orders. Does that about sum it up?”

I was tongue tied until a twitch in Dean's movements suggested he was about five seconds from standing me back up and delivering further motivation. “Yeah, I guess so . . . Sir.”

Sam spoke up, “So the short answer to the original question, as to why you didn't ask us, would be that you knew we'd say no.”

I squirmed uncomfortably, but there was no getting out of it, “Yes, sir.”

Sam nodded grimly, Dean shook his head, and John looked away. I thought I was going to puke. 

John's voice was clipped when he finally spoke. “I want your pants off, now. Are you wearing something under your blouse?”

I nodded, my voice was a near whisper, “Yes, sir, a cami.”

“Then I want you down to that and your underwear.”

I obeyed as fast as I could with trembling fingers, soon my blouse and slacks were in a crumpled heap on the floor. “Go put those away, and come back here.”

I stooped to grab my clothes, feeling very vulnerable with my panty-clad bottom up in the air and three pissed Winchesters within arm’s reach. I hurried to return the articles to their place in my duffle and get back over to John. He took my arm, led me to the bathroom, and maneuvered me till I was standing wedged next to the sink with my face in the far corner. “You will not move from this spot until someone comes to get you, We're going to figure out what to do with you; I strongly suggest you don't do anything to add to what you've already earned. I'm extremely disappointed with you, little girl.”

The door closed firmly and I shed some more tears at the predicament I'd gotten myself into. This was going to be bad. The wait seemed to last forever. I could hear the murmur of their voices occasionally, but not any distinct words. Finally, I felt a firm grip on my shoulder. I jumped and out of the corner of my eye saw it was Sam who'd entered the bathroom so quietly I hadn't heard a peep. 

“Let's go.” His voice was subdued, almost hurt, and it felt like a punch to the gut. I wanted to say something, tell him how sorry I was, but I knew an apology wouldn't mean much from someone about to receive an ass whooping of epic proportions.

“Yes, sir.”

He led me out and I felt like I was facing my execution. Close enough. 

Sam left me in the middle of the room and went to join Dean at the table. I noticed both of them had removed their jackets and hung them on the backs of their wooden chairs. John was standing behind the couch. He began to speak. 

“I'm sure you've gathered you're in a world of trouble here, but let me just list the strikes against you. You disobeyed your orders to stay inside the motel, you endangered your life, you didn't tell us where you were, you screwed with our ability to work the case, you withheld information that could have helped us with the case, you lied to all three of us for days. Am I missing anything?”

“Um, no, sir, I don't think so.”

“You take a cab to the morgue?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I'm guessing you used your credit card a few other times as well, to help with this deception?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hand it over.”

“But- !”

“You listen to me, and you listen good. You broke our trust. You've misused your credit card and I'll be holding on to it until I feel like you've earned some of that trust back. You won't need it anyway: until further notice, you're going to be within eyeshot of one of us at any given time, you're going to ask to do anything, and since you're under complete lockdown for the next week, unless the question is to use the restroom, or a handful of other necessary activities, the answer’s probably going to be no - the other restrictions will be lifted as I see fit.”

Fuck, this was worse than I imagined. “Yes, sir.” I hurried to my duffle and fished out my wallet.

“Phone, too.” I bit back any further protests, I was only going to dig myself deeper. I grabbed it and my credit card - on contemplating another second I brought my fake IDs as well - and handed them over.

John set them on the table and turned his focus back to me. “You're also going to be receiving daily maintenance spankings over the next week. Assuming you toe the line and don't do anything stupid, we'll be moving it to bi weekly and then weekly based on your behavior.”

I felt my jaw drop. Daily? He'd had me on a weekly schedule before, but he'd decided to see how well I did without them a few months back and I’d been very careful to prove that I didn't need them . . . up until about a week ago. 

“The severity of your maintenance spankings will depend on your behavior and attitude. Who will be giving it will depend on who's available and if you acted disrespectfully toward one or another of us throughout the day.”

That time I said it out loud in a horrified squeak, “What!?”

He didn't seem surprised at my little outburst, “Your choices and behavior showed disrespect toward all three of us, you lied to all three of us, and since you apparently require constant supervision, your actions are going to affect all three of us, so Sam and Dean are going to help me with your maintenance - as well as your punishment right now.”

Oh. Oh fuck, in my distress at the future punishments I'd racked up, I'd almost forgotten my dread of the immediate pain I knew I had coming. My hands went to cover my bottom, seemingly of their own volition. He gave me a look and I dropped them back to my sides. 

“I'm not planning on having to repeat myself here, but especially the way you senselessly put yourself in harm's way. And the lying, Y/N, really? We've never lied to you, and I thought we'd earned the same courtesy. I need to be able to trust you.” 

He shook his head in disappointment. “You're getting the belt. Come bend over the arm of the couch.” He removed his jacket and draped it over the back of the couch. Then he slowly rolled up his white shirt sleeves and looked at me expectantly. 

He was starting with the belt? I'd had licks with the nasty thing tacked on to the end of a handspanking when he felt the need to make a particularly painful impression - a full dozen on one memorable occasion - but this was not something I'd ever experienced before. My heart was racing and I was having a hard time making my feet move to obey. 

He must have seen I was struggling because he came up and firmly took hold of my arm. His voice was calming, not angry, “You know I expect a proper response.” The swat was not as hard as it could have been, but it helped my tongue and my legs work again. 

“Yes, sir.”

He guided me over to the side of the couch and I stood still while he pulled my panties down to rest at my mid thigh. “Bend over. You will not reach back, and you'll stay in position, is that understood?”

“Y- yes-ssir. H-how many?” My hands were shaking as I clenched them around the edge of the cushion in front of me. 

He hesitated. “I have a number in mind, but I want you focusing on what you did to get here, not what number we're on. Just know that more can be added to it if you try to resist your punishment in any way. Do you understand me?”

“Yessir.” I heard the clink of his belt buckle and the swish of it sliding through fabric loops. Tears were already forming, this was going to be so bad. 

“You earned this, little girl, every lick.”

“Yessir. I'm sorry!” 

The only response was the whoosh of the belt slicing through the air and the crack on my upturned bottom. I gasped and tried to settle into the slow, steady rhythm he was setting. Each stripe started hurting worse and worse, though, as some of the strokes began to overlap. When he'd covered my bottom twice over, down to the crease of my upper thighs, my tears were flowing freely and my hands twitching with the desire to reach back. 

There was a brief pause and I almost thought, maybe . . . until he barked, “Hold on.” 

That was my only warning before the belt started falling at a rapid pace, over and over. I screeched, clawing at the cushion. My foot kicked up, but I immediately resumed position and John didn't falter or say anything.

I started sobbing uncontrollably, occasionally crying out when I couldn't take it anymore. It felt like it would never end, like I had to reach back or let my legs curl up to block the punishing blows.

The belt started landing exclusively on my thighs and I shrieked again, burying my head in my arms and firmly planting my feet, willing myself not to break position. Finally, it stopped. I felt John's hand on my back, gently rubbing and knew he was going to let me cry for a minute. It wasn't over, but I was grateful for the reprieve. 

When my sobbing had turned to shuddery breaths, John's hand moved to my shoulder. “Get up.”

I did so, shakily, using John's hand for support. “You did very well. If you keep being good for the rest of your punishment, I won't use the belt again.”

“Yyy- yess-sir.”

“You're going to take a spanking from Sam and then Dean. They don't deserve to be treated with the disrespect you showed them this week. I know you are friends, but they're also your authority figures.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I want you to go get your brush from your duffle.”

Oh god! The brush after the whipping I just took! I couldn't stifle my whimper, “Sir, please!”

He gripped my chin in one hand and put his face right in front of mine. His voice was low and scary. “I know you're not arguing with your punishment. Because I know _you know_ that would mean bending you back over the couch to take six extra with the belt.”

I started crying again, “No, sir. I didn't mean to.”

He let go of my chin. “You're going to take your brush to Sam, apologize to him for the way you treated him, and ask him to punish you. He's going to give you twelve with the brush. Then you're going to do the same with Dean. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

I shuffled to the bed with my underwear around my knees, my eyes misted over with tears that wouldn't stop falling. My hand closed over the dreaded implement and I tried not to focus on how heavy and solid it was. I tried not to think of how much it would hurt wielded by Sam's strong arm, falling on my already welted and throbbing ass. 

The journey to stand at Sam's side seemed to take an eternity. And once I reached it, I was struck by how wrong this situation was. He was my jogging partner, hiding how much he had to slow down so I could keep up with his long strides. He was my fellow bookworm, sharing excitement over plot twists, or interesting facts we'd come across in our reading.

I made myself look into his face and I knew he wasn't relishing the thought of punishing me, but there was a steely look there too, not unlike his father's. I'd hurt him. I knew it. And suddenly I really was sorry, like I hadn't been before. 

“Sam,” I whispered, but his frown told me I wasn't allowed to call him that yet. “Sir, I'm so sorry for the way I acted. Please punish me.”

He took the brush from my trembling hand and pulled me between his legs, shaking his head. “You snuck out, you put yourself in danger, Y/N, directly against orders. That will never be okay with me. Do you really think we would have cooped you up all day if it wasn't necessary? You knew Dean and I were feeling bad about that. I'm very disappointed that you would treat us like we're some kind of unreasonable dictators that would just order you around for the hell of it.”

He guided me over his knee and started in right away. The cracks of the brush were breathtaking and each one caused me to cry out. He dealt them out in an even rhythm, trapping my legs in his when I started to squirm in pain. I was grateful for that, because I don't know if I would have been able to take all twelve without accidentally breaking position. I was able to twist my fingers in his pant leg as the pain got worse. The last two he aimed at my thighs and my howls turned to racking sobs as I realized it was over. 

He put a hand on the small of my back until I got myself under some semblance of control. He helped me up, standing with me. I wanted so badly to hug him, but his face was still grim. “I'm so sorry.”

“I hope so. I don't want to have to do this again.”

That prompted a new influx of tears - I didn't know how I could have any left - but I accepted that he didn't feel like he could let me off the hook just yet. I'd really hurt him, and the only way I could prove how sorry I was would be to see my punishment through and try to work on regaining his trust.

He helped me turn around and handed me my brush, giving me a small nudge toward Dean. 

I shuffled over to him. I couldn't bear to look in his eyes just yet. My buddy. My protector. Always trying to coax laughter out of me when I was feeling sad. I found myself staring at the knees of his black slacks. I tried to look up, but I couldn't make it past his loosened tie. 

His finger tapped my chin and I obediently met his gaze. His face was uncharacteristically blank. “I, I'm sorry, sir, for the way I treated you. Please punish me.”

I handed him my brush and he took it from me. He looked down at it, turning it in his hand for a moment. He sighed, “Wait here.”

He left me standing there, confused. Leaving the brush resting on the table, he walked into the kitchenette. He made his way to the basket of cooking utensils on the counter and I tried not to crane my neck to see what he was getting. When he returned, he had a light plastic spatula in his hand. 

He sat down and gently guided me over one knee, trapping my legs as Sam had. “Give me your hand.”

I stretched my hand behind me and he gripped it firmly, pinning it to my back. “You don't lie to me, Y/N. Ever. I need to be able to trust you, and you betrayed that trust for days. That's not okay with me.”

With that, the spanking started. The spatula was whippy and stung like a mother. The noises it pulled out of me would have been embarrassing if I'd had the mental capacity for something so trivial, and I couldn't for the life of me still my involuntary squirming. I was again grateful he kept a tight hold on me and kept me from earning any extra with John's belt. He must have given me twelve, but there was no way I could be sure, it seemed to last forever when it was happening. He suddenly dropped the spatula to the floor and switched to giving me slower, even swats with his hand with short pauses in between. 

“You do not lie to me, you do not hide things from me, and you abso-freakin-lutely do not put yourself in danger. Is that clear, little girl? Cause I don't want to have to repeat myself.”

The spanking stopped and it took me a few seconds to catch my breath and manage to sob out a “Yessir!”

“Alright, then, we're done here. Easy.” He rubbed my back until my sobs subsided and he helped me up so I was standing between his knees. He opened his arms and I fell into a brief, but heartfelt hug. He stood and guided me over to the nearest corner before releasing me. “You did real good, kiddo. I'm gonna bring you some water, then you're gonna stay in the corner til someone releases you, got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

He was gone for a moment before returning with a cup of water from the kitchenette. He waited while I drank it down, then I returned my nose to the corner. 

At first I was just relieved my burning ass was getting a break. I was trying not to think about the fact that John uses the corner for the sole purpose of keeping you thinking about why you are _about_ to be spanked. Either before the punishment starts, or while he’s giving you a breather. Meaning this wasn't over.

I'm not sure how long I was there, but as it dragged on I tried to keep my shifting to subtle movements. Mostly I really wanted to rub my stinging rear. I must have been doing mostly good, though. Someone - most likely John - cleared their throat meaningfully behind me when my fidgeting became too noticeable, but I was able to rein it back in, and that was the only reminder I got. John usually gave two vocal commands to settle during corner time, then he started handing out swats. 

 

Finally, John called my name and I went over to where he was now seated on the couch, now relieved to be out of the corner, even if I might be wishing I was back there in a second. John gently cupped my cheek. “Dean was right, you've been taking your punishment very well, so far. Do you have anything to say to me?”

“Yes, sir. I really am sorry. I shouldn't have lied, or disobeyed. I know you only make rules to help keep me safe. I- I'm sorry I broke your trust. Please forgive me.” I sounded pathetic to my own ears, but John just gazed at me sympathetically. 

“I'll always forgive you, Y/N. It might take time to regain our trust, but there's nothing you can do that'll change how much I care about you. You're family.”

“Yessir, thank you, sir.”

“You know you got another spanking coming.”

I squirmed and there was a whine to my voice, “Yes, sir.”

“Let's get it over with, then.” He leaned me far over his lap till my toes couldn't reach the ground. I braced my hands on the knobby carpet. 

As the swats started falling, hard slaps that stung my already blistered rear, John started talking.

“I hope we won't be having this discussion again.”

“Ah! _No, sir!_ ”

“You don't lie to us.”

“No! No, sir, I promise!”

“You don't go behind my back.”

“Nooho, sir!”

“You don't disobey my orders.”

“I won't, sir, Ah! I won't, _please!_ ”

“You are _never_ to put yourself in danger needlessly. “

“Nooooo, siiiiirrrr!”

“You are too precious to us, Y/N. I expect you to treat your life as though it's as valuable as I consider it to be. Do you hear me?”

The last four swats accompanying this last question were the hardest, delivered right on my sit spots. Then he stopped. It took me several seconds before I could stop crying long enough to gasp out, “Yes, yessir.”

He lifted me and pulled me next to him on the couch so I was curled mostly on my side with my torso in his lap. My hands went around his waist and I cried into his dress shirt. He rubbed my back and shoulders, eventually moving to stroke my hair. “Alright, alright, it's over.”

A heavy exhaustion came over me and I could feel myself tempted to doze. “Hey,” he carefully jostled my shoulder to rouse me. “Here, stand up for me, Y/N.”

I obeyed, groggy and sore. He glanced over toward the table, “Grab her some water.”

I didn't see who he was talking to. I leaned on his arms while he pulled my underwear back up, moaning slightly as he slid them into place. 

Sam walked over with the cup of water and he put a hand on the back of my head while he helped me drink it. He brushed a hand across my forehead before he left and I felt a little better. Like maybe he could forgive me eventually. 

John helped me curl back up with him on the couch. “You're a good girl, Y/N. I know you're sorry. It's gonna be okay. We're gonna get past this - together - alright?”

“Yessir.” My voice was slurred with sleep and that's the last thing I remembered for a little while. 

When I woke up, strong hands were lifting me. Why was I dreaming about being on fire? Someone's arm bumped me and I hissed. Oh, just my butt was on fire. I blinked groggily, my eyes feeling like they had sand in them. 

“Hey kiddo, sorry. I didn't mean to wake you,” came Dean's light voice. He set me in the bed and gently pulled the covers over me. “You should try to go back to sleep. Dad's gonna go get some food.” He stood up and made as if to leave. 

“Dean!” I almost sat up, but he'd said I should try to sleep. Maybe this counted as disobeying? Maybe I wasn't allowed to call him Dean still? I laid back down, a couple tears trickling down my face. 

“Hey, hey, what's up, kiddo?”

“I, I haven't earned it yet.”

“Earned what?”

“I just wanted you to stay, but you won't want to, not with me. I broke it.” That was jumbled nonsense, but I was still half asleep and didn't know how to put what I was feeling into words. 

“Hey, you listen to me. You messed up. We've all messed up. Just means you're a true Winchester, you got it? You still got some penance Dad's set for you, that's true, but that just means you do your time, you get your freedom back - easy peasy.” He winked at me. 

“This . . .” He motioned back and forth from himself to me. “We're family. You don't gotta earn anything. Course I'll stay with you.”

He climbed into the bed beside me and started trailing his callused fingers through my hair. I knew he wanted me to sleep, but I had to try to tell him one more time. “I'm really really sorry, Dean.” I whispered. “For real.”

He sighed and kissed the back of my head. “I know you are, kid. I forgive you. Just toe the line for awhile, huh? I'll help you any way I can.”

“Thank you, Dean.” 

“Hey.” Sam had appeared on the other side of the bed. I looked up at him apprehensively. 

“I could hear your throat rattling from over there. I brought you some more water.”

“Yes, Sir.” I meekly raised my head.

He made a face at the formal title. “I'm still upset, Y/N. I guess you picked up on that. I don't want to be an asshole, though. I know you're already hurting. I believe you're truly sorry. And I know you well enough to know you're gonna do your best to make it right. How about if I say I promise I will forgive you, hmm? It's not about you, I just need to get over it on my own time, is that okay?”

“Yes, Sam, thank you.”

“Of course. Now drink this and get to sleep like Dean said.” He supported the back of my head like before while I slowly downed the glass. When I was done, he tentatively leaned down and kissed my temple before taking the empty cup away.

Dean resumed massaging my scalp and I found myself quickly drifting off. Before I succumbed though, I made myself a firm promise: I was gonna do my time like Dean said - without complaining. It would be my step number one to proving I was sorry and regaining what I'd so idiotically tried to throw away. For now, though, I felt secure in Dean's support, in Sam's promise, and in the fact that all three of them still loved and cared for me.

**Author's Note:**

> Here is a list of the main disciplinary actions inflicted on the oc in this fic:  
> Held and pulled by elbow/arm  
> Public swatting  
> Made to strip to a tank top and underwear  
> Made to stand in the corner  
> Phone and credit card taken away  
> (Maintenance spankings mentioned)  
> (Grounded, asking permission to leave the room/perform even basic activities mentioned)  
> Underwear pulled down  
> Bare bottom spanking  
> Belt whipping  
> Spanking with implements (wooden hairbrush/plastic spatula)  
> (Swatting while in the corner mentioned)  
> Hand spanking


End file.
